On the arrowhead
by Isbjorg
Summary: If you can't imagine chaotic-evil ranger as a daddy - just ignore this story.  Want to see some illustrations to this story? Please, visit me on DeviantArt. Annnnd... to be continued...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1.**

**From Daeghun's memories.**

… My foster daughter, Isbjörg, only now that I need to tell about her I realize that I almost did not know her. Odd, I can hardly decide where to begin. Perhaps I should say a couple of words about her real parents. It is not known to me who was her father. However, judging by Isbjörg's appearance he apparently was a sun elf. I assume Esmerelle, mother of Is, met him somewhere in the Icewind Dale. Probably, in memory of that bitterly cold place which meant so much to her she gave such "glacial" name to her daughter. When Esmerelle was alive she was a follower of Sune. Needless to say, as soon as Is found out about it, the question of faith was settled for her once and for all.

From her childhood she kept aloof from the others, partially because half-elves are a bit slower in their development than human children. Only a couple of years before she left West Harbor, Is built a relationship of sorts with Bevil when they, conditionally speaking, became equal in age. Poor lad would do anything for her, she had him wrapped around her little finger.

I never told her what was good and what was bad, when she was growing up, it was utterly useless. Such notions as good and evil did not exist for her. My daughter never acknowledged rules and laws. It is not a pleasant thing for me to say, but more often than not she did not take others into consideration, caring merely for her own wishes. And trust me, if she really wanted something, she always got the desired. By any means. I admired this trait, but her iron stubbornness with which she pushed her way through things was at times worrying, I must admit. I often wondered how having such an attitude to people Isbjörg nevertheless was able to receive anything she wanted from them? Perhaps, it was due to her strange, alluring charm which allowed her to manipulate nearly anyone. And perhaps such an egoistical attitude was for the best. Now I can see how far from her I was during those years. And if she had a different character she would probably have been distressed over it…

**Together again?**

…Flame of a guttering candle illuminated faces of those sitting at a table: a thirty-year-old man and an elven half-blood seemingly eight years younger than him. The man, apparently a ranger, was clad in torn leather armor; dried blood stains and dust covering him almost from head to toe denoted that he miraculously survived some terrible ordeal.

- Still, why have you got me out of this mess? – The ranger followed a maid passing by with his eyes and reclined in his chair.

The half-blood narrowed her eyes in a foxlike manner and shrugged her shoulders:

- Don't know. I simply followed my whim.

- Odd to see such a display of nobility in _you_. Were I in your place I would've left myself to rot in that damned Wall. Especially after I… - the ranger faltered for a splitting moment, - but surely you remember.

- Indeed, I remember, - the girl smirked and leaned her elbows on the table. – And I also can't forget your heartfelt speech in the Vale of Merdelain.

- Don't seem to recall, - grumbled Bishop gloomily.

- How it went, - Is assumed a theatrical pose and lifting her gaze to the ceiling said: - "I was thinking it would be as easy to hate you as I did Duncan, but I don't... at all."

- Enough, - Bish shot a sullen glance at her. – No need to continue.

Is rested her chin in her cupped hands and watched the ranger, silently jabbing his knife into the table's surface. It was a wonder how swiftly he regained himself after coming back into this world. And he hasn't changed. Not a bit. But did she really want to see him being different?

- And of course, you were thinking that I'd fall on my knees thanking you for my rescue? – Bishop critically looked at the contents of his mug and took a mouthful. Oof… and they called it ale! Only orcs brew such at the Sword Coast. –Don't hold your breath!

- And you, no doubt, were expecting that I'd throw myself around your neck begging you to stay with me? Come on! – Is waved her hand and let out an intentionally loud laughter.

- Hm. So, you don't want me... to stay? – Bishop glanced sideways at the half-blood.

- It's entirely up to you, - Isbjörg feigned blase indifference. – After all, you usually do whatever you want, go wherever you want, kill whomever you want. And no one dares to order you… Although, - she added after a thoughtful pause, - your notable skills would be of use in these wild lands.

A wry smile came to the ranger's face as he reached out his hand and tilted her chin up.

- You know what I was thinking all the time there?

- Pfft, - sniffed Is. – I have a guess. You've got only one thing on your mind all the time.

- I was remembering how much fun we used to have. First at the "Flagon", then at_ your _Keep, - Bishop slowly ran his thumb across her lips. – And don't you think of saying you forgot.

The half-blood smiled slyly and said nothing. In the mean time "The Sloop" was filling up with visitors, and the air became stuffy. Drunken sailors engaged into arguments here and there.

- Alright, - concluded the ranger, - if I always do only what I want to, then I might as well stay. At least until tomorrow's morning.

…A warm wave enveloped Bishop as he entered the small room. After icily cold water of the lake Mulsantir it felt especially pleasant. The ranger looked around: "The Sunken Flagon" now seemed almost a palace in comparison with the local inn. Isbjörg was standing in front of a murky mirror; candle's gleam tinted honey-golden strands of her hair with copper. Having thrown his leathers which now were only good for patches onto the floor, Bishop moved in her direction. The half-blood didn't turn around at the quiet creak of floor boards – she knew these steps _too_ well. Besides, there wasn't anywhere to hide from the mirror in this tiny room.

- You are all wet, - the girl shivered and laughed quietly when the ranger's prickly cheek touched her neck, and a few drops fell from his fair onto her slender shoulder.

His hand reached for her warm breast, brushing the edge of her gown aside. First thing to catch his eye was smooth, soft skin where the scar from the shard used to be. Bishop hemmed in surprise.

- I'll tell you later, - whispered Is, leaning into the ranger's embrace.

Some of you might wonder: what the hell? A ranger can't follow Sune! And we'd say: yes, they cannot. But Is is first of all an arcane archer, that is why we took the liberty of giving her this particular deity. If she was, for instance, a bard who later developed into an arcane archer, she would have been able to follow Sune, right? Then, in our case it is also possible. Besides, Bishop doesn't follow any deity at all, and according to D&D rules, a ranger MUST have a deity. This was a little digression ESPECIALLY for anyone who likes to nitpick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

**Immil Vale.**

…- Phew… Damned heat! – Bishop threw his rolled fir-lined cape and rucksack under a tree and stretched on the grass. Isbjörg followed suit and lay down beside him trying to fan her face with a glove.

- Actually, it was your idea to come here. Whatever you need those wyverns for so badly…

The ranger took a swig from his leather flask:

- We'll see what you'll say when we get money for their stings.

- As if we're steeped in poverty!

- Poverty or not… But it's NOT me who buys all those ornate buckles, gloves necessarily with embroidery, some stinking liquids…

- Aroma oils…

- All the same to me. Yeah, yeah, I know you, Sune-followers, ought to be…, what was it you said? – Bish seemingly tried hard to remember something. – Ah, ought to be equally fancy on the inside and outside. As if your Sune cares what you put on yourself!

The half-blood raised herself on her elbow and looked at her companion sternly:

- Shut up, Bishop!

- O-o-oh… if it wasn't an o-o-order? – Bish pulled Isbjörg closer to himself and caught the tip of her pointy ear between his lips. – When you say that you become just like your uncle-drunkard… I even start to miss him.

- Sometimes I simply hate you. Or rather pretty often. – Is freed herself from his embrace, raised to her feet and walked towards the edge of the cliff.

Spring in Rashemen is usually late and lengthy. And despite of it being the middle of the Claw of the Sunsets, the snow covered earth practically everywhere. But here, in the Immil Vale, it is always summer; and the air is thick with smells of flowers and herbs… Bishop leaned against the tree and watched the half-blood for some time. Warm breeze blew gently through her long hair and the setting sun created a flickering golden halo around the girl. The ranger shook his head briefly and smirked at himself: "Last thing I need is to actually start admiring her!"

…The heat receded with the night approaching. Crackling of logs in the fire kept small nocturnal animals away. Forgetting about caution for a moment, they ran away threading through glass, frightened and blinded by the bright light. It seemed as if the night itself maintained silence, admiring the sole source of light in this small world surrounded by velvet darkness.

They sat beside each other in silence. Out of the corner of his eye Bishop observed her chiseled profile, slightly turned up nose… Strange, normally his gaze lingered on other, more prominent parts of the half-blood's body. The ranger rubbed his forehead: there definitely was something wrong with this vale…

Is moved closer, gently placed her fingertip on his upper lip and giggled:

- When you aren't grimacing as usual you look like some sulking animal.

- What? – The ranger raised his eyebrow in perplexity.

Is laughed and ruffled his dark-brown hair.

- Enough, - Bishop frowned. – Can't stand it when you start messing around like that!

- Why? – Isbjörg pinched Bishop's ear, pecked him on the nose, hugged him briefly and squeaked.

- Cut it out already! – The ranger obviously wasn't feigning his anger. – I hate all… this… gooey sentiments!

- Which of them? Like these: Bishy-honey-sunny..? – Is wasn't even thinking to stop it.

A sound resembling something between growling and hissing escaped Bishop's lips; he pushed the girl onto her back and pinned her elbows to the ground:

- So? Will you shut up or not?

- Bishy-ho-o-o-oney, - she drawled and burst out laughing throwing her head back.

- Alright. Seems I've only got a last resort, - Bish caught her by the chin and pressed his lips against her small laughing mouth. This trick always worked wonders.

Is draped her arms around his neck. Breathless from laughter, she gasped for air, her hair spread out in disarray on the grass. And, by the hells, the ranger could've sworn he never saw her as beautiful as then…

…Karnwyr yawned and turned away, laying his head on his paws. Odd creatures those two-legged: put all those cloths and other things on themselves and then spend so much time taking them off. Not like us, wolves, who are way smarter than that…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Unforeseen circumstances.**

… Few weeks passed since the night spent in the Immil Vale. Money gained for the stings of hapless wyverns were long since spent. Life was running its normal course. The rangers' couple spent most of their time in the dense Rashemen woods, constantly arguing during days and invariably reconciling at nights. Isbjörg still couldn't set traps which her snide companion still found so amusing. All was as usual until one morning when Is woke up feeling as if her stomach was about to turn inside out. She jumped over sleeping Bishop, snatched the first shirt she found and dashed outside. Having woken up from the noise, the ranger turned to the other side and tried to fall asleep again. The sleep, however, wouldn't return. Besides, Karnwyr, realizing his master was awake, placed his forelegs on the bed and licked him on the unshaven cheek a couple of times, letting him know that it was time to get up. Bish winced, pushed the wolf away lightly and reluctantly rose from the bed. And Isbjörg still wasn't back. Strange. Better to check up on her. Bishop fastened his knife to the belt and pushed the door. The ranger inhaled crispy and cool morning air, yawned and looked around. She wasn't anywhere in sight. Stepping on the dew-damp grass he turned around the corner of the house and walked to a stream. Its murmuring waters wended their way among smooth stones. Is was sitting streamside, her arms wrapped around her knees and her head lowered. Long hair cloaked her small figure almost entirely; a few golden tresses fell onto the water's surface. Bishop came closer and sat down beside her.

- What's wrong with you? – Bish turned her face to him, brushed wet hair from her forehead. - Damn, you're… so pale.

- I don't know… I feel sick all the time. It's like I'm going to die…

- Alright, let's go inside, we can sort it out there. I think we had some potions, may be you'd feel better if you drink them, - with these words he took the girl in his arms and made his way towards the house.

…The Immilmar's market square was bustling with people. Remembering Neeshka's lessons Is firmly gripped her not exactly tight purse. Gliding among the crowd towards the magician's store she contently noted to herself that precautions were not unnecessary: a couple of times someone's hands tried to cut the purse with money from her belt. At the porch with wood-carven ornament and a signboard depicting an elf with a vial of bubbling liquid in his hands, Isbjörg glanced over her shoulder: Bishop was stuck somewhere near a weapon smith. So, the circumstances were the most favorable. Once inside, the girl quietly asked an elderly mage, the store's owner, about something. He narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded affirmatively:

- I can brew such. But it will not be ready until the morrow.

- Why so long? – The half-blood was evidently nervous.

- You see, it's not so simple, - the mage made a helpless gesture with his hands. – I don't have all the required ingredients available. Besides, concoctions of ithat kind/i are best taken in the morning. Believe me, I do have knowledge of such things.

Is cursed, made an advance payment and went outside. The ranger was already waiting, as usually leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

- Finally!... How do you like it? – Bishop reached out his hand to show her a tiny dagger, such blades were favored by assassins hiding them in their sleeves.

- Snitched? – Is turned it in her hand, touched the edge with her fingertip.

- Bought this time, - replied the ranger smugly.

- Alright, - Isbjörg returned the knife. – I'm starving, let's go get something to eat.

- That's your wisest thought of today.

And the ranger's couple strolled towards the tavern with a name speaking for itself – "The Fat Cat".

…Atmosphere of warm, orangey comfort filled every corner of "The Fat Cat" tavern, and seemingly even sipped onto the street attracting new customers. The owner, polishing the stand mechanically, was trying hard to sham interest in listening to a guard, who dropped by to relax after his shift. Intoxicating smells were wafting from the kitchen's door. Sweetish aromas of roasted mutton and pork ribs mixed with delicate fragrances of different herbs, spices and baked milk.

Leaning back into his creaky chair, Bishop watched his companion without caring for manners digging first into one chicken leg, then second and third. After that four meat pies one after another. And only when it came to baked apples did Is finally looked up and without stopping to chew asked:

- What?

The ranger smirked and placed a wooden mug with a cracked handle onto the table:

- Just waiting for your face to crack up in the middle you're stuffing it so hard.

The half-blood rolled her eyes demonstratively, shrugged and continued her meal.

…- And this surely is oh-so-necessary? – Bish grimaced looking on as Isbjörg poured down syrupy liquid with a strong flowery scent into the hot water.

- Come one, don't pretend you're so disgusted, - Is opened another vial. – Lower your head.

Bishop heaved a sigh full of suffering and sank into the water up to his neck. Of course he liked all these "inhumanely" procedures invariably repeated during each bath. But he couldn't admit it openly, after all, could he? Although, surely it is not so bad when a nude half-elven woman is sitting beside you, all wet and hot from the steam… Yeah, definitely, it's worth enduring those procedures. Meanwhile, slender fingers softly, yet firmly rubbed something smelling of origan into ranger's unruly tufts. Bish let out another sigh, though not so desperate as the previous one, and with poorly concealed enjoyment began to wait for the end of this "execution"… "Odd, why she still keeps silent? – He was thinking to himself, - Does she really think I'm such an idiot that I don't suspect anything? Even Karnwyr felt it, just look at him jumping at her defense at any sign of possible danger…"

… The bright sun mercilessly shone through thin curtains. Bishop, without opening his eyes, habitually reached out his hand to pull sleepy and warm Is closer. But all he found was empty space; the ranger sat up discontentedly and much to his surprise saw Isbjorg almost fully clothed. She was finishing plaiting her long, honey-colored hair.

- And what's that supposed to mean? – Bish stretched and scratched the back of his head. His hair still kept the scent of origan after the bath the day before.

- I… I've placed an order with the mage yesterday. Need to pick it up, - Is avoided looking at him for some reason. – It won't take long.

- Well now, - Bishop swiftly rose to his feet and blocked her way, folding his arms. – Spit it out already.

Is had been dreading this. For a flitting moment she was even taken aback, but quickly managed to regain herself and put on a look of innocent confusion which usually worked without a hitch:

- What are you talking about?

- Come now, - Bishop moved his hand as if trying to wave off some pesky insect. – Could fool anyone; have to give that to you. But I know your tricks all too well. Besides, I wasn't born yesterday: if a gal faints, throws up at every corner, bolts down what could be a meal for four men…

Realizing that her plan fell through and there was no going back, Isbjörg looked him straight in the eyes:

- Yes, you're right. And the longer you keep me here the less time I have to deal with this… problem.

- Hm. I just don't get why would you lie to me all this time, eh?

Is fell silent, collecting her thoughts. Eventually, she replied emphasizing every word:

- Because, Bish, I already believed you once… And I've learned my lesson.

The ranger abruptly closed the distance between them, grabbed her by the shoulders painfully, shaking her once; and his stare made the half-blood look away involuntarily. His words came out as a hoarse half-whisper:

- How STUPID you are if you still haven't figured out a damn thing!..

Is wretched free from his grasp and without a word darted out of the room. Bish looked out of the window and saw her walking towards the market square, taking a roundabout route. Never afterwards he was able to explain to himself what happened next. Hurriedly pulling his leather armor on, he ordered Karnwyr to stay still and ran outside, swift as an arrow. Jumping over fences and running across sheds' roofs, Bish reached the place several minutes earlier than Is. The yawning elderly mage was just opening his store. Breathless, the ranger made up something about "that half-blood" asked him to pick up "that particular concoction". Much like for any other merchant, it hardly mattered for the mage whom he received payment from. And so, Bish casually walked back by the same road, concoction tucked into his pocket. Upon reaching small stone bridge built over narrow river he threw the vial into the water; and propping himself against the rails began to wait. Oh! There she is. And in such a hurry, her hair flies all over the place.

- Where is it? Give it to me! – Isbjörg's eyes were flashing.

- There. Dive in, may be you'd still catch it, - Bishop nodded at the waters below.

Is reflexively leaned over the rails looking into the river's murky waves.

- You don't understand, if I don't drink it today or at least tomorrow, it will be too late! – She said quietly, her gaze still fixed on the water.

- Thought so, - Bishop smirked.

Isbjörg turned to him and only then noticed that he didn't have any weapons with him. Just a small knife attached to the belt. How serious a situation had to be to make him go outside almost unarmed? Her thoughts were in complete disarray.

- But… I don't understand.. why?

- Because you are a fool, - Bish averted his eyes and kicked a small stone.

In the meantime the city was arising from its slumber, a wagon delivering goods to the market clattered on the cobbled pavement; streets were filling up with people, a smell of freshly baked bread wafted from somewhere.

- So then, - Bishop was first to break the silence, he turned Is to himself and looked into her dark-brown eyes. – I thought you were smarter than that and didn't need all the pompous oaths, declarations and promises. But I was wrong: you are as stupid as all the other wenches. If you need it so badly, I'll say it… Err… damn it, I'm not the one for such speeches… If I wanted to leave I would've done it as soon as you got me out of that blasted Wall. But I'm still with you. Why? I don't know. Perhaps it's… well, suits me fine: don't have spend gold on wenches, for example. Wait, wait, hear me out first! Here is what I want to say: what's now, ahem… inside you, I don't think it would be a hindrance for us.

Isbjörg grimaced, sniffled and… burst into tears. It was the first time Bishop saw her crying.

- Enough already, or else I'll be utterly disappointed in you; - the ranger locked the girl in his embrace, pressing her head against his chest, of course just so that her sobbing wouldn't attract too much attention, why else?

- I ha…te you, Bishop! – Breathed Is. – If only you could ima…gine HOW MUCH…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4.**

**Bish is Bish.**

…The small forest hut was in shambles: apparently, its owners were not overly concerned with keeping their dwelling in order. The walls emitted tarry smell of wood warmed up by morning sun rays. In the corner, under the ceiling a plump spider was enthusiastically working on his web. Wooden bowls were scattered all over the table; lazy drops dripped from the upset bottle, slowly accumulating into a reddish puddle. Clothes piled on the unmade bed and an ornate hem of a dress hanging from underneath a lid of an old chest supplemented the scenery.

- Damn it to the blue blazes! What's wrong with it? – Isbjörg was thoroughly angry by now, trying to squeeze her visibly well-rounded figure into her favorite hide armor. So then, if to lace it up from the top it leaves a gap in the middle. What if to try from the bottom? Blast, then there aren't enough laces. Oh, and what if to fix them on the upper part only, and take a wide enough belt, that perhaps would work…

- Bish, where is your belt, the one _supposedly_ made from a green dragon's hide?

- What do you mean? – The ranger observed the scene with his legs habitually resting on the table while drinking "fire wine" from a flask. Yeah, those Rashemi witches definitely were well-versed in drinks. – On me, as usually.

- Then take it off and give it to _me_, - Isbjörg was intent on getting into that darn armor.

- Oh, really? – Bishop smirked at such audacity.

- Really, none of my own belts fits me any more! Look! – Is demonstrated what she meant, notes of despair seeping into her voice.

The ranger took the last swig, glanced inside the flask to make sure it really was empty, and then stood up.

Coming closer to Is, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, moved aside her thick braid and lowering his head kissed her in the neck, prickling it with his unshaven chin, much like as usual.

- Now, now, no need to be so upset; - in such moments his voice became smooth as velvet, murmuring into her ear. – It's only temporary. You know it is.

- Well… yeah, you're right, temporary…

- Of course, temporary: soon you'll be even bigger..., - Bishop laughed somewhat constrainedly.

Isbjörg hissed like an angered cat, turned around abruptly with her hand raised for a hit. But the ranger deftly caught her hand in midair:

- Don't you ever try to do that. Not even in jest, - the look in his amber eyes confirmed the seriousness of the words.

… Despite her gestation Isbjörg continued, or at least tried to continue her usual way of life. To remain at home like all other women expecting a child? No way, that was so unlike Is. Of course, she couldn't boast even a half of her previous dexterity, often fainted and doubled up with sudden waves of nausea. Bishop got irritated, remembering the Nine Hells and all the devils dwelling there when they let their prey slip for yet another time. But making her to sit at home – no, he knew it was impossible.

… The air in the main room of a small tavern was unbearably stuffy. In this time of the year it was hot even in the heart of Rashemen. Is was sitting at a table sticky with dried up liquids of all sorts, her head propped up in her cupped hands. Sounds, smells, maids hurrying back and forth – literally everything was extremely annoying.

- That fatso, the one with a shiny bald head, he's going to buy hides from us, - Bishop slumped onto the bench beside his companion, pointing at the said man.

- Great. No need to look any further, - uttered the half-blood with some effort.

- And there comes our food, - the ranger noticed a maid emerging from a kitchen with a tray and moving in their direction.

- Your order, - a half-drow girl uncharacteristically buxom for her race, began to place plates on their table, sending a rather meaningful look Bishop's way. "What a slut!" – thought Is and already opened her mouth to voice her displeasure with services in the tavern, but froze pierced with a sudden spasm of pain. She broke out into a cold sweat, everything blurring in front of her eyes, sounds drowning, mixing into muffled rumble. Bishop's concerned voice drifted from somewhere far away; and the half-drow must have dropped a plate causing it to shatter… Is couldn't see or hear anything, agonizing pain ousting everything else… The maid shouted something to the tavern-keeper. An old, balding man wrapped in an apron immediately left his position at the barstand:

- Kaya, - he said, taking a key off the bunch and handing it over to the half-drow, - take our guests to a room and go fetch a healer.

The ranger picked up the girl writhing with pain and ran after the maid to the second floor. On the wooden, darkened stairs he stopped feeling something warm and moist on his hand.

- Is this… is this her blood? – Bishop stared at his fingers in disbelief.

The half-drow girl looked over her shoulder: things were bad. They had to hurry. Having opened the door she instantly left to bring help.

…A grey-haired mage walked in and took a seat beside Is.

- And you'd better go outside; - her words were addressed to the ranger.

Bishop came up to a window and turned away. He wasn't about to leave the room – who knew what that charlatan was going to do with Isbjörg? Look at her, already mumbling some gibberish…

- It is going to be alright now, - after some time the woman stood up heading towards the door. – The girl will sleep until tomorrow. And when she wakes up, give this to her, - she handed a vial with pink liquid to Bish.

- How much? – muttered the ranger.

The mage narrowed her eyes slightly:

- And how much the life of your girlfriend is worth?

Bishop unfastened a pouch from his belt:

- Here, don't have more.

The elderly woman counted a few coins and returned the pouch to the ranger:

- I took what I earned, no more no less.

The door slammed. For a few minutes Bish stood in the middle of the room, thinking over what happened. Then he approached the bed with caution: Isbjörg was quiet in her sleep. The ranger ran his hand across her hair, covered her with a blanket and left silently.

… Strong Rashemi ale filled his limbs with pleasant warmth. After emptying another mug Bishop decided that it was enough for the night. He left money on the table and made his way towards the stairs. All of a sudden, as if out of the thin air, the same half-drow maid appeared in front of him. It seemed to him that she was attempting to block his path, albeit not obviously. The ranger frowned and tried to walk around this unexpected obstruction, but the girl stopped him by the hand:

- I have something to tell you.

- Speak, then, - Bishop replied rudely, staring at her cleavage revealed by a low-cut dress.

- Not here, - the half-drow glanced at the tavernkeeper behind the barstand, - come, - with these words she led the ranger to a corner under the stairs.

- No one would interrupt us here; - the girl fell silent as if expecting something.

- So? – Bish was starting to lose his patience.

A drunken laughter erupted from the main room.

- You know, - finally spoke the maid, - you've been given the most expensive room here. You'll have to pay a lot tomorrow.

- Hm. And what do you care?

- Well, - the half-drow moved her shoulder, thin white cloth slid down revealing her full bosom even further. – It's not fair, to use situation to his advantage in _such_ a way. You see, - the girl was standing so close he could feel her breath. – We provide our guests not only with food and shelter, but also with services of… a different sort.

"Well, I'll be damned! – Bishop smirked to himself, - She's trying to seduce me!"

- Is that so? Interesting, - the ranger pulled a lace of her corset. – And what do you suggest?

- I suggest you receive them… on the house, as a compensation for the owner's greed. Besides, your companion, - she noticed something distantly resembling doubt in the man's eyes and added quickly, - oh, I do see how you treat her. But she won't be able to give what one such as you needs for a long time. No?..

Bishop grabbed her by the waist abruptly and pushed her against the wall: there was no need for courtesies with wenches like that one…

… When he returned to the room he sat down on the bed and looked at sleeping Is for a long time. No, he wasn't suffering from remorse. It just… felt not quite right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**New Path.**

… Two weeks flew by, so quickly as if they never were. Bishop couldn't understand whether it was gladdening or frightening, but he wasn't about to turn from the set path.

The snow was crunching under his feet as the ranger walked the road staring into nowhere, disregarding passers-by and everything else. The temple of Sune was only short distance away now, the man slowed down his pace and then stopped altogether, his look gliding over the building where Isbjörg was now. It was Uktar, and very soon she would… would… No, it was hard to believe. And perhaps not even so much to believe as to _admit_ the fact that… Oh, by the Nine Hells!

Bishop sighed, looked around for some reason and slogged towards the temple's doors; which expectedly met him with silence and sweetish scent of incenses. The ranger wrinkled his nose, Karnwyr sniffed.

"If only you knew how much I can relate", - smirked the man looking at the wolf rubbing his nose against his paws. It was a welcome distraction from the thoughts plaguing his mind for a while. Unfortunately, this distraction didn't last long. A priestess, neatly combed, clad in sophisticated claret garment and emitting customary for Sune priestesses fragrance, emerged from the hall, bringing the feeling of uncertainty back to the man. The face of the young woman lit up with a smile and she minced over to the ranger as he was pulling a fir hood off his head.

- Finally you are back! - Ringing voice of the priestess resounded loudly under the temple's arched ceiling, making Bishop wince – it was like a blow to his ears delivered by a hammer.

The man muttered something indistinct in reply, but the woman wasn't even listening to him.

- And we already started worrying. You know, I have wonderful news for you! Your wife has bore a child just a few days ago!

This time the hammer, huge and heavy, hit him on the head. Apparently, the priestess took a dumbfounded look on the newly-fledged father's face as a sign of sudden happiness.

- Yes, yes, can you imagine? Strong, healthy, even looks so much like you. Although, it's a bit early to tell. But she's a beauty, real beauty.

- Already? – replied the astounded ranger, not knowing what to do. – It's still at least two weeks.

A slightly confused smile crosses the woman's face and she shrugged her shoulders:

- The baby was born a little earlier. Her mother had been worrying so much lately, for you, herself and the child. Your daughter was restless, kept kicking inside, so it's not surprising your wife gave a birth to her earlier than expected. Nevertheless, the girl is healthy, that is for sure.

- **She is not my wife,** - croaked the ranger in a suddenly hoarse and unnaturally sounding voice as he pulled the hood over his head. Slowly, as if in a dream, he turned around and made his way to the exit. Karnwyr moved his ears in surprise, and the priestess seemed to be taken aback.

- Where… where are you going?

The ranger didn't reply. He needed to take a walk, even after two weeks of running through the woods. His mind was in chaos; a breath of fresh air was vital for him.

The wolf caught up with his master, nuzzling up against his palm. It made him come to his senses, suddenly discovering himself standing in the middle of the market square. The night was approaching, and the square was nearly empty, almost all the stores already closed for the day. The ranger glanced down at Karnwyr, who was looking into his eyes with concern, stroked the wolf's head and smirked slightly. The man couldn't explain even to himself what was going on inside him. Was it fear? Or joy? Or something in between; or perhaps something new entirely?

Bish looked around with a sigh; his gaze lingering on a stall with some trinkets, then stared at this boots covered in snow.

If Isbjörg finds out that he ran away as soon as learned about their daughter's birth, she'd kill him. Or at least would try to. He could only hope that fool of a priestess wouldn't be so stupid as to run straight to Is with a report that her "husband" disappeared into unknown direction.

"Wife", - Bishop sniffed scornfully, kicking a lump of snow beneath his feet, cursed and moved towards one of the stalls.

The ranger appeared in the temple's doors twenty minutes after he left amazed by his behavior priestess there. This time no one was there to meet him, which suited him perfectly well. He remembered in which room Is stayed when he left.

Not bothering to knock, Bish opened the door and momentarily felt a strange smell. It wasn't unpleasant, it just was… unusual. Customary scent of aroma oils mixed with something else, something new.

Clearly not expecting such a sudden ranger's appearance, the half-blood froze by the crib, her eyes wide open in surprise. As his gaze fell upon the crib, Bishop froze in his tracks as well, staring at the bundle lying inside it. He probably looked like a total cretin at that moment, but he couldn't care less: he was struggling with an urge to run away again.

- Damn you! – exclaimed Isbjörg putting on a resentful look. – You scared me, trolls take you!

Intrigued, Karnwyr poked his nose inside the room, sniffing the air. The ranger hesitated at the doorstep for a bit more, then slightly pushed the wolf inside and closed the door behind them.

Dropping the pretence of being offended, Is smiled uncertainly, glanced inside the crib and stepped up to Bishop, nudging him with her fist lightly to shake him up a little as he stood there motionless again.

- What, aren't you glad? – Asked the half-elf, narrowing her eyes slightly. Even though she was trying to be her half disdainful nonchalant self, her eyes gave away her anxiety.

Bishop kept quiet. He looked at his girlfriend's face, ran his hand across her shoulder, then glanced unassuredly over at the crib. Is followed his glance with her eyes and smirked.

- It was you who stopped me back then.

- Trying to make me regret it, are you? – Finally spoke the newly-fledged father. – Don't hold your breath. Shooting another glance at the crib, he abruptly unlaced the collar of his shirt and slowly walked up to it. He looked inside, cautiously, as if something big and scary could leap out of it, placed his hands on the polished wood and froze again. The girl, wrapped up tightly in a light blanket, was sleeping peacefully. Bishop furrowed his brows slightly and with a completely blank mind examined the face of… his daughter. How odd it sounded. His daughter. A creature with his blood in her veins. It wouldn't be too long until she'd run all over the place, squealing and calling him (Blast and damnation!)… dad. These new and incomprehensible emotions made Bish feel ill at ease.

- You want to hold her? – He heard Is' voice nearby and turned to her with a surprised and a rather frightened look on his face.

- Me?

- Sh-h-h! – She hissed at him and glanced at the daughter, who still was sleeping. – Quiet, don't shout. You, who else? She's your daughter, after all. And you are a "daddy' now, - Is couldn't help a caustic remark.

Bishop gritted his teeth, but that only spurred the half-blood on.

- Dad, da-a-addy, dada.

She was clearing asking for it. Bish abruptly pulled Is closer and touched her lips with his, slightly, almost gently. Her hands immediately wound round his neck.

- O-o-o, - drawled the girl after the kiss, - why so tender all of a sudden, mhm?

The man heaved a sigh, let her go and leaned his hands against the crib, same as against the bridge's rails a few months back:

- And still, you're such a fool.

- Now I recognize you, - smiled the half-elf. They stood in silence for some tile looking at the small bundle in the crib. Karnwyr was sitting nearby, examining the little unfamiliar creature at different angles.

Bishop stroked him, then sighed and said decisively:

- Alright, give her here, least I change my mind.

Is quirked an eyebrow, skeptically looking the ranger over and replied, folding her arms:

- Wash your hands at least.

A short argument and some persuasions later the hands were eventually washed. With mixed feelings the ranger uncertainly received the child from her mother's hands. The girl stirred in her sleep but didn't wake up: she slept like a log. Bishop watched her small round face intently, still not understanding what he was feeling. But finally he concluded that he didn't feel anything bad.

- And what's her name? – The ranger looked at his companion inquiringly.

- I thought we would name her together, - Isbjörg was greatly amused by his genuine bafflement.

- Hm.., - Bishop frowned shamming deep thought, - how about Bish-junior? Doesn't sound too bad to me.

- Bish, I'm serous… - the half-blood touched the small round ear of the child, - look, she doesn't have anything elvish, - after a pause she added, - I always wanted to be called Tallis. Such a beautiful name, unlike this tongue-twisting one I've got…

…It was dark in the small temple room. Dim reddish gleam of coals smoldering in the fireplace provided the only source of light. The baby was still asleep in her crib.

- Bish, do you even hear what I'm saying? – An irritated whisper pulled the ranger from his oblivious state.

- Huh?

- I've been telling for half an hour already how I nearly… died here, and all you do is stare at my breasts!

- How can I stare if I can't see a damn thing? – Bishop shrugged in the darkness.

- Because you won't stop touching it! As if there is nothing else interesting in me! – Isbjörg kicked him under the blanket in mock anger.

- We-e-ell, actually they're three times bigger now. You think I could leave such a fact without attention?

- Don't get overly excited, it's not going to be this way forever; - usual sarcastic notes seeped into her voice.

- I know. That's why I'm trying to capture the moment, - the ranger's hands glided softly around her waist, delicate and slender as before, - Come here…

And something resembling family ideal, so uncharacteristic for the two rangers, set in. But, of course, it wasn't for long.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Methods of upbringing. **

…The winter sun was shining brightly but offered little warmth. Sparkling of the sunlight-drenched snow was so radiant, it almost hurt the eyes. Squinting, Tallis had to drag herself along by then: with each step her fir boots became heavier and heavier. The girl threw a side-glance at her father walking beside her and sighed demonstratively, but he didn't pay any attention to this display of fatigue. She followed a small cloud coming out of her mouth with her eyes, breathed out another one which dissipated even quicker than the first, and tried to appeal to her parent's conscience once again, sniffling loudly. Feeling cold air nip at her nose, Tallis rubbed it with her mitten and went on to take decisive actions:

- I'm tired, - she drawled, finally getting attention she sought. The parents stopped looking at their daughter: she was frowning and looking overall miserable. Mulsantir was still rather far, and they had covered a great distance. Tallis, after having walked so much without a single complaint, was well deserving to be carried the rest of the way.

Isbjörg nodded meaningfully in their daughter's direction, Bishop heaved a sigh but nevertheless picked up the girl whose face immediately lit up. The world from the height of an adult seemed so different, and at first Tallis was surveying the surroundings with curiosity. Not a five minutes after, however, she grew bored with it. She sniffled once again, pursed her lips discontentedly and stared at her father. He wasn't looking any more interesting upon closer examination, so the situation was in bad need of fixing: little fingers grabbed the edge of a fir hood and yanked it over Bishop's eyes. The ranger set it straight with a sigh and gave his daughter a silent stern look. Such a scary look was apparently supposed to discourage the girl from repeating it, but the effect was opposite: Tallis pulled the hood over her father's eyes again. Is narrowed her eyes slightly, glancing over at them with curiosity. And once more Bishop put the hood in its place:

- Do it again and I'll chuck you into a drift, - he warned her and jerked her fox-fir trimmed hat low over her face. The girl sniffed, pulled the hat back tousling her hair and crossed her arms.

- No, you won't!

- Sure I will!

- Nuh uh!

- Uh huh!

Needless to say, the ranger's hood was soon over his eyes again. Fixing it with abrupt motion, Bishop moved towards a big snowdrift so appropriately turning up on their way and threw the girl there, although carefully so. The snow spattered all over the place. Her eyes widened and she burst into bitter tears, astounded and hurt by such a low act.

Is was laughing up her sleeve as she watched her daughter's vain attempts to climb out of the snowdrift, which only resulted in her drowning even further into it. Bish stood at some distance with his arms folded over his chest and a usual smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

- Ma-a-a-a-a! – Tallis flapped her hands on the snow, and started to furiously wipe away the tears with her snow-covered mittens. After having tried to escape her unfortunate situation she'd only made it worse.

- Alright, Bish, - said the half-elf, trying hard to suppress the laughter to the accompaniment of loud weeping, - That's enough, get her out.

The man smirked again as if contemplating whether he really should do that. But apparently the ranger's "black heart" wasn't completely hardened as he proceeded to fish the girl out of the snowdrift. The child immediately decided to take revenge for her humiliation, hit her father's shoulder with her small fist and tried to wrench free from his firm grasp, but it wasn't an easy thing to do. Despairing, she yelled out some distorted curse word, which took her parents aback and then made them laugh. Utterly offended, Tallis wailed again and tried to resist her mother's attempt to shake the snow off her clothes; but then she apparently grew tired of kicking and just kept howling quietly.

- You cry when it's cold and your eyelashes will freeze, your eyelids will stick together, - said Bishop smirking, and the greeting abruptly ceased at hysterical note.

The child twisted her mouth and stared at her father incredulously, while her mother wiped the tears off her reddened cheeks.

- Not true, - Tallis said hesitantly and looked to Isbjörg for support: - They won't, will they?

The half-elf glanced at the girl, running her hands across the small wet cheeks once again, and shrugged:

- We-e-ell… If he says so, then they will.

Terrified, Tallis sniffled one more time and rubbed her eyes, just to make sure.

- Alright, let's go, least you throw someone else in a snowdrift, - the half-elf moved on.

With an impish glint in his eyes the ranger looked at the daughter in his hands and easily caught up with Is, pushing her sideways to the edge of the path. The half-elf swayed, gasped in surprise and fell onto the snow to the rippling laughter of her daughter.

… The nearest village was still a couple of hours walk away. Not only Tallis, but her parents as well were exhausted by now. After a momentary consideration it was unanimously decided to find a quiet place and light a campfire in order to warm up their already frozen limbs. With combined effort they gathered enough brushwood, kindled a fire with flints and put hides on a fallen tree, brushing the snow off it beforehand. Sitting on her father's knees Tallis was nipping at a gingerbread taken from their provisions. She chewed with a great deal with concentration, but then suddenly looked sideways, changed her mind about another bite and made a face instead. The ranger quirked an eyebrow, not expecting such turn of events, and followed his daughter's glance with his eyes. The half-elf was sitting beside them, cross-eyed and with her tongue stuck out. Noticing the father's attention, Tallis froze with her tongue put out for a second, then pointed accusingly at her mother:

- She started first!

Bishop cast a glance at Is who was trying hard to pretend being clueless, smirked and whispered into the girl's ear, loudly so that the half-elf would hear it as well:

- She's just jealous, that you're sitting in my lap and she ain't.

Tallis snickered and Is merely scoffed shrugging:

- Pfft! Big deal! As if I'd need your permission should I want to do so. Come on, make some room, - the half-blood unceremoniously perched on the trunk next to them.

The girl frowned and slowly slid down from her father's knees.

- And where are you going? – asked the ranger narrowing his eyes.

- You'll just start kissing again, as usual! Ewww… - a look of disgust crossed Tallis' face which caused a burst of laughter from her parents.

Having stopped laughing, the rangers gazed at the dancing flames for some time. After a few circles around the campfire Tallis ran up to Karnwyr. The scrawny and rather decrepit wolf didn't mind his master's daughter, but her approach meant the end of his peaceful moment and he whimpered quietly in despair. The girl caught up with her prey and started to push and pull at it – she didn't like it that Karnwyr had been so dull lately.

When she concluded that the prey was tormented enough, Tallis sighed and turned to her parents to announce:

- And I actually saw you at night wiggling around, naked and breathing funny, like this, - the girl inhaled deeply, - Ooompff! Pfff! Ooof…

Icily cold water came pouring down on Isbjörg, she choked on the air and coughed. Bishop furrowed his brows staring at his daughter whose posture and look appeared to be saying: "They just have to come up with something odd, simply can't live in peace and quiet!"

Recovering from the initial shock, the rangers' couple looked at each other silently, not knowing what to say and not understanding when Tallis managed to catch them at such an… inappropriate moment.

Eventually, Bishop smirked and threw a couple of twigs into the fire with the words:

- It's going to be… well… - he looked into the distance thoughtfully, - thirteen years or may be less, - the ranger winked at his girlfriend, - and you'll be doing it yourself… This, hm... "wiggling".

He received a shove to his side for such frankness. Bishop rubbed the hurt spot and gave the half-elff a look saying: "What, you'd say it's not true?"

The girl considered the words, biting her lower lip, then shifted from foot to foot:

- And with whom?

- Well, - the father pondered over it for a moment. – Don't know, really, with some guy.

- Bish, shut up! – hissed Is, but that hardly could stop him.

- Though, let me think… May be with a girl, - Bishop's laughter was caused more by Is' indignation than by a possibility itself. The half-elf cursed and put her hand over his mouth so that he wouldn't go on about something which a child shouldn't know; but the man easily got rid of the obstacle.

- And may be with all of them at once!

This time Isbjörg buried her face on Bishop's shoulder and he tossed his head back, both of them laughing hard. Tallis rolled around in the snow with Karnwyr, chirping cheerfully. Is watched the game for a bit, then prodded Bish again whispering with a smile:

- You are su-u-uch a pervert!

The ranger glanced at her sideways, smirked and admitted:

- Yes. And you got lucky.

The half-elf squinted at him but didn't object. Although, there hardly was any reason for objections.

…Rain was beating down on the window outside, rustling leaves on the trees, chasing few passers-by off the narrow streets. And inside it was cozy; logs crackling in the fireplace. After a long trip through cold dankness such warmth made their heads spin. Isbjörg shook a thoroughly wrung out shirt of her daughter once again and hang it by the fire. Bishop who was busy tending to his weapons, flicked the blade with his fingernail, the dagger responded with melodic metallic humming. Tallis still wasn't back from the tavern's halls: as it happened, a family with children stopped in one of the adjacent rooms which sparked her curiosity.

Is hang the last shirt, pushed a pair of boots closer to the fire, came up to the door and looked outside – what could keep their daughter there for so long? The hall was quiet and the half-elf returned back into the room, already starting to worry.

Bishop put the blade aside, raised to his feet, stretched until his neck cracked in the usual manner, and stopped in this position – a thump reached their ears from the hall, seemingly from the stairs' direction, followed by a child's screech and weeping, quickly fading away into the distance. Bish and Is looked at each other and the next moment Tallis entered the room, a bit disheveled but obviously rather pleased. Without looking around the girl climbed onto the bed, her attention engrossed by some trinket in her hands. Upon closer examination Is noticed that it was a toy horse, seemingly wood-carven. Bishop quickly lost any interest and started to arrange arrows in a quiver. Isbjörg sat down beside their daughter and was about to ask where she got it from as a somewhat indecisive knock on the door interrupted her. The ranger threw a glance at the half-blood and realizing that she wasn't going to open the door, sighed discontentedly, then moved towards the door. Short, skinny and a rather shabby-looking elf with an appearance of a bard was standing at the doorstep. With an abashed countenance he looked at the human in front of him, placed his hand on the shoulder of an elven boy with still tearful eyes and said falteringly:

- Ehm.. Good evening. You see, the matter is that… your, - the elf craned his neck trying to have a look inside the room, - yes, your daughter took our favorite horse from us.

He shrank under Bishop's stare. The ranger looked over his shoulder at Is and Tallis, chattering over the "loot", and turned back to the elf:

- Yeah, so?

The elf clearly wasn't expecting such a reply. Stunned, he opened and closed his mouth, even more resembling a fish while doing so, and continued timidly:

- Hmm… We would like to return it.

Bishop smirked derisively:

- Ha, and why is that? If your snotnose can't defend what he owns, what we could possibly talk about? – With these words the boy sniffled and hid behind his father, - Right, now get out of here, - Bish tried to shut the door closed, but sinewy elven hand got in his way. The ranger glowered in his usual manner at this fighter for dubious justice, which made the latter completely embarrassed as he mumbled:

- Well… But it's not fair, they… are only children…

- That's right. And yours with such a treatment will remain a kid forever. You're going to wipe his snot for a long time, five hundred years or so, - Bish pushed the elf back, clearly letting the latter know that negotiations are over, and shut the door.

Tallis was still sitting on the bed with her new toy, and Isbjörg was carefully combing her damp, tousled hair. Bishop observed the scene silently for some time, then blinked shaking off the strange stupor, came up to them and sat down on the floor, propping his back against the bed. The daughter momentarily held out the horse to him, proud with her achievement:

- Look here. You like it?

The ranger ran his finger along the carved mane and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

- See, you're stronger, that's why this horse is yours now.

Tallis suddenly became serious, furrowing her brows and putting her index finger to her lips she looked up at the ceiling:

- So, then, to get what I want I need to be strong?

- Exactly.

- I see, - said the girl carelessly, already rid of her thoughtfulness and returned to playing with her new toy.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Nightmare****.**

"…_Icy limpid cold bound the tress' branches and sky dome into an invisible cage. Grey wisps of mist crawled along a brown mass of fallen damp leaves. A twig cracked…Bishop turned around: someone unseen was following them. He was hiding there, behind balding shrubs. He had to find the stalker first unless it was too late. Too late… Damn! Why is going right into that direction! What a fool! __"__Wait__! __I!" – Bishop tried to yell out, but the voice suddenly left him… An arrow swished in the twilight and pierced something… alive. The ranger turned around abruptly and saw the so familiar fragile figure surrounded by a cloud of golden air slowly sinking to the ground. He rushed to her, ran straining himself to the utmost: a ten steps distance seemed endless…"_

…Bishop opened his eyes. Reality, filled with the usual night sounds and smells, was slowly returning, bringing an enormous relief with which a man wakes up after a nightmare. The ranger turned his hand: curled up, Isbjorg was sleeping; tresses fallen over the pillow reveled her neck and slightly pointed ear. Bishop sighed and quietly wound his arms around the half-elf. He didn't care at the moment if he could disturb her sleep. He had to _feel _her being close to him. Is stirred in her sleep, mumbled something indistinct but didn't wake up. The ranger tightened his embrace, buried his nose in her hair, inhaled the warm, flowery scent, and whispered barely audibly something which he would never say out loud. "Good thing I haven't woken her, after all, - thought Bish, regaining himself completely, - she just would giggle for several days remembering this… blast!... burst of tenderness."

Trying not to make noise, he climbed out of the bed, looked into the child's bed: Tallis was fast asleep, sprawled across the sheet. Small, embroided blanker was lying on the floor. The ranger smirked to himself, covered the girl and took a step towards the door. Karnwyr pricked his ears, raised from the floor, as ready as ever to accompany his master. He silently unbolted the door, opened it and sat down on the doorsill. Night herbal scent was intoxicating and having calming effect on his mind. Somewhere behind a wall of whispering trees the horizon was starting to brighten; the silent Selune, surrounded by glittering starts, was leaving the skies.

Karnwyr shifted around, sniffed the air and lay down, placing his head onto his master's knees. Grass swayed as fir of a wild animal, running across a field against the wind. A sparkle of sorrow flashed in the eyes of the graying wolf: once he also was like that. The ranger's hand, so timely placed between the wolf's ears, stopped the beginning despair. Karnwyr licked the hand of his old friend in gratitude. Time couldn't be stopped, oh well.

- What, again dreamed of a githyanki dressed as Torio and led by Dunkan running after you? – Is touched the scar on his cheek with her lips and sat down beside him.

- You… when did you wake up? – Bishop threw a dubious glance at her.

- Just now, - the half-elf squinted and smiled slightly, - Why?

- Nothing, - the ranger turned away with a frown crossing his features.

They sat silently for some time. Finally, seeing that Is was already beginning to tremble from pre-dawn cold, wrapping a thin sheet around her in vain attempt to warm herself up, Bish drew her closer to him:

- Freezing, are you?

Isbjorg curled up and buried her face into Bishop's chest, trying to drawn in his embrace as deeply as she could. "Is he really never cold? – The thought flashed across her mind briefly, - my teeth are nearly chattering, and he's hot like some oven!"

- Well, since we aren't sleeping any more, why waste time, huh? – whispered Bishop, slowly putting away the sheet the half-elf had around her, leaving a hot prickly kiss on her shoulder, - besides, I have to keep you warm somehow…

… The sun was high in the sky and the bright light poured through the open door. The summer seeped into the house together with the smell of forest herbs. Grasshoppers chirred loudly and swollen bumblebees bumped off the walls. Tallis was sitting on the bed, dangling her legs and watching as yawning for some reason Is was brushing her hair slowly and carefully. Tiny golden sparkles flashed on them in slanting morning sunrays. At first the girl just observed, then took a tress of her hair in her hand, and in another a tress of her mother's hair, examining them both closely as if comparing, touched them against her cheek in turn, sniffed. Her mother's hair smelt just like those small violet flowers which grow on a long stalks, such a gently and pleasant fragrance, that is how any mother must be smelling like. Is, noticing her daughter's motions, put the brush aside and watched her with curiosity. The daughter resembled her father more and more with each day: same amber look from under the brows, slightly frowning mouth making her face seem somewhat discontented, unruly chestnut hair which would darken in time.

- Why do you have such beautiful hair? – inquired Tallis eventually, looking into her mother's brown eyes.

- Because my father was an elf, - smiled Is.

Tilting her head to the side the girl started to fiddle with her hair trying to braid it, but it wasn't much of success. Dropping this useless activity, she looked at Isbjorg again:

- And why my hair isn't like that?

- Because _your_ father is a human, - came the reply which made Tallis come to certain coclusions.

- So, if my father was an elf, I would've had such hair as yours?

The half-elf smirked and flipped the girl on the nose jokingly:

- I don't know. Perhaps.

She took Tallis by the hand and placed the girl in front of herself. She needed to unravel what was on the child's head after a night sleep. Each morning it took up a considerable amount of time. The room drowned in silence. The girl wrinkled her forehead, apparently thinking hard about something.

- Then I want him to be an elf, - Tallis eventually voiced the results of her contemplation.

- You are so silly, - Is caught a tousled brown tress and twirled it around her finger, - your hair is very beautiful as well. Goddess Sune herself has such hair, and you aren't happy with it?

The girl pondered over it in silence and nodded in agreement: perhaps it wasn't so bad if you had such hair as a Goddess, after all.

Karnwyr appeared on the threshold, his claws clattering on the wooden floor. Damp fir was bristling up – apparently the wolf dipped into a stream. A moment after Bishop walked in, wet and disheveled as his four-legged friend. Tallis looked at her father for a long time, tilting her head from one side to another. She could almost see him on all fours, shaking himself together with Karnwyr in the same manner. When Bishop finally noticed her look, the girl sighed heavily:

- I wish you were an elf.

Isbjorg snickered mockingly.

- Why is that? – The ranger sent a sideglance Tallis' way, attaching his scabbard with the blade to his belt.

- Then I would have same nice hair as mom.

Bish quirked an eyebrow staring at his daughter, then unsheathed his knife, threw it in the air and deftly caught it by the blade.

- What, you don't like it? – Bishop slowly and menacingly moved towards his daughter. – I could always shave it off. And you'll be like Safiya. Then you'd mourn your braids. Come here now!

Tallis, frightened by such a perspective, let out a squeal and ducked between her mother and the bed's back, looking at her father askew. She remembered that instance with a snowdrift all too well. Who knew, may be he'd shave her for real?

The ranger smirked and put away his knife. This morning incident chasing off the remnants of the clinging grey nightmare he had at night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter ****8**

**"Family" Business.**

…Grey-yellowish sky looked into damp cracks of cobblestone road. Sounds of a city bustling with life ringed, droned, clanked in the lucid autumn air. Somewhat strangely clothed citizens, lumbering carriages, horses – everything blended into noisy single whole. Tallis had been to a city before. Only she was little back then and didn't really understand anything. And now she was grown up, she was almost five years old. She even had her own bow and arrows. Not just mere toys but real ones! There were so many interesting and unusual things around her but the hood, tightened around her head by the mother's caring hand, pressed against her neck and hampered her attempts to get a better view of her surroundings. How uncomfortable!... by the nine… hmm… what was it her dad says? Anyway, when one is angry it's always by the nine something. Tallis looked up at the half-elf walking a bit further ahead and sighed: there was no point in objecting. She'd just say, firstly it's cold, secondly it looks nice. Not to mention a following spanking session. But dad is a different matter. Of course, he also might spank her, but he never makes her do some unnecessary nonsense. And when she, Tallis, gets dirty with mud or accidentally tears her clothes he even commends her, laughing and saying that we couldn't care less what some Sune woman would think of us. Tallis knew very little about that "Sune woman" and that knowledge was quite contradictory. Usually, when mom speaks about that Sune dad is laughing at her. And then they argue and talk about some Wall… The girl lowered her head: pfft… adults! What else can you expect from them?

- What's with this puffing? – Her father's voice distracted the little girl from her thoughts.

- I'm not puffing. I'm just not comfy with this; - Tallis stretched her neck and pointed at the hood's straps.

- Take it off, then if it's not comfortable.

- Can I? – The girl glanced dubiously at the ranger.

- Of course. Always do only what you want to.

- Hey, don't even think of it! – Is turned around and regarded both of them with a stern look, - It's cold, you'll freeze without it.

- Perhaps we shouldn't raise a princess, eh, Your Ladyship? – Bishop smirked helping the girl to untie a knot.

- Yeah? And if she falls ill, it would be **me **who would be sitting by her side all nights long, not you!

Arguing in such a way the "family" didn't even notice as they found themselves in front of a furrier's store: chains of the new, freshly painted sign creaked quietly in light autumn breeze.

- Alright, you can take it off: we are here now anyway; - the half-blood waved her hand and walked up the stairs.

The father and daughter glanced at each other. Bishop pinched the tips of his ears and slightly pulled at them, making them look elven-like, grimacing he pointed at Is with his head. Tallis burst into rapturous laughter.

Hey, I see everything! – Isbjörg pursed her lips shaking her head condescendingly.

… The furrier, a shriveled middle-aged man with small shifty eyes, was captiously examining each of the hides brought by the rangers. Bishop and his companion observed him silently, leaning against the counter. Tallis climbed onto a carved wooden bench in the corner, waved Karnwyr over and began to smooth out his ears: they seemed particularly shaggy today.

- It's dark here, - eventually concluded the merchant, - I need to have a look at the goods under daylight, excuse me.

Having said that, he grabbed the furs and vanished into an adjacent room which was a storage of sorts. Isbjörg looked inquiringly at Bishop but he merely shrugged in reply. After some time the furrier returned, placed the hides onto the counter and said shaking his head:

- Such a pity, but I can't pay a lot for furs of _such _quality. Although, since you're already here, very well…

- What in the Hells? This one died three years ago, of old age too! – The half-blood threw away a rather shabby and stale hide. – That is not our furs!

- What is this, you old stinking troll, trying to swindle us, huh? – Bishop leaned over the counter and grabbed the merchant by collar.

The furrier's courage was quite obviously dwindling under the stare of amber eyes, but nevertheless he decided to play the game till the end:

- But… but it's not my fault that you brought bad…

- Listen here, - the ranger didn't let him finish the phrase, - You are either paying us in full as you should, or this knife you see here will be sticking out of your throat!

Karnwyr, seeing that a fight is about to break out, bared his teeth and growled. Tallis, being long since used to such scenes, paid little attention to the happenings. She seemed to be more interested in wooden carvings on the bench's back depicting some strange birds and animals.

- Hold on, Bish, -Isbjörg stayed the ranger's hand, - I have an idea. Don't let him go just yet.

With these words she slipped behind the counter and disappeared into the room from which the store's owner emerged just a few moments ago. Bishop smirked watching her: what do you know, even _here and now _she managed to curve in what was considered indecent fashion! Heh… Several years spent together taught them to act together and trust each other. And so the ranger didn't even ask what was it she had in mind, and merely tightened his grasp on the frightened furrier's collar. A minute after Is showed in a doorway with a bunch of different hides in her hands.

- And this is a compensation for moral damage, - explained the woman and flashed one of her sweetest smiles to the merchant.

Having thrown the loot onto the floor, the half-blood opened her bag:

- Now then, Tallis, help you mom, quick!

The girl jumped down from the bench and readily started to stuff furs into the large bag. The furrier looked on with inexpressible sorrow how his property, acquired with backbreaking labor, vanished into depths of this damned bag. But the iron grip of the ranger and tip of the knife unsettlingly tickling his neck, made it absolutely clear for him that silence was the best he could do at the moment.

When trophies were packed, Bishop rudely pushed the store's owner away. The latter was about to let out a relieved sigh as a sudden blow to his jaw knocked him down. The furrier collapsed to the floor under the counter uttering muffled curses. Bish shook his hands and said over his shoulder:

- A free lesson for you. In the future don't try and deceive _honest_ citizens! - The phrase made both rangers burst into loud, venomous laughter.

…As they were walking through narrow side street Is caught an approving look of Bishop directed at her and smirked:

- What, wasn't such a bad idea, mhm?

- Well… - drawled the ranger, - Have to admit it wasn't, indeed.

- And that's why you love me; - the young woman stood on tiptoes and pecked him on his forever prickly cheek.

- Ha! And who said that? – Bish arched an eyebrow sarcastically.

- Who? You did that yourself.

- Oh, really? And when was it?

- In summer. You had a nightmare about something. - The half-blood narrowed her eyes slyly. – You thought I was asleep…

A shadow ran across the ranger's face. He frowned silently as if remembering something which he tried so hard to forget, something unsettling and disquieting.

- Come on. We need to get out of here least that bastard calls for guards, - he muttered in reply, picked his daughter up and quickened his steps…


End file.
